


Chuck VS The Breaking Point (100 Letters)

by cheriecolas



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: 100 Letters, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Song Lyrics, based on a halsey song, chuck's just lovesick, somebody help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheriecolas/pseuds/cheriecolas
Summary: [ Based (heavily) on 100 Letters by Halsey. ]Ever since John Casey became Chuck Bartowski's handler, there's been some kind of tension. Casey thinks sexual, Chuck thinks otherwise. He accepts a 'handler/asset with benefits' system at first, but everyone has their limits.





	Chuck VS The Breaking Point (100 Letters)

_Well King Midas put his hands on me again_

Chuck felt warm arms slip around his waist. At first it freaked him out-- it was still a new feeling, to say the least-- but he relaxed into Casey.

That is, until the hands roamed lower. Calloused fingers slipped under the waistband of his pants and--

“Ch-Christ, Casey, what’re you doing--?!” Chuck tried to pull away, but Casey’s iron grip held firm.

_He said one day I'd realize why I don't have any friends_

“Jesus _H_. Christ, kid. And you wonder why you’re friendless. You’re so damn jumpy.”

“Hey, I do have friends! And what does that even have to do with anything?!”

“You squeal like a schoolgirl when I do this…” Hands dragged up his ribs. “Like I haven’t done it before.” The words were low and raspy in his ear. A shiver ran down Chuck’s back, but it wasn’t the good kind.

_I find myself alone at night unless I'm having sex_

“Casey, would you just--!” Bartowski continued to squirm and struggle, attempting to break free with a grip on the counter. “Let go and listen to me or let me _leave!_ ” The frustrated tone in his voice got a bitter grunt in response.

_But he can make me golden if I just showed some respect_

“Show a little respect, eh, slugger? We can work this out. In bed.”

_But I don't let him touch me anymore_

A well place elbow to the gut got Casey’s arms off Chuck fast. He hadn’t meant to hit him there, but the squirming had gotten more panicked and claimed the agent’s organ as a martyr for the cause. The nerd stumbled away as soon as he was free, and took a gulp of air. When did he start holding his breath?

Casey ground out, “... The _hell_ was that for?” His growl suggested he was not in the mood for disobedience.

_I said, "I'm not something to butter up and taste when you get bored_

“Really, Casey? _‘The hell was that for’?_ You can’t tell?” Chuck laughed, dry and bitter. “This may come as a shock, Colonel, but I’m not the world’s biggest fan of just being a fuckbuddy because spying got too hard to handle without getting a _hard on_.”

_'Cause I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors_

“Bartowski-”

“No, I’m not done yet! For the NSA’s golden boy at just about everything, you really struggle at pretending to care! You have 24/7 security on me, right, Major? Only _really_ tune in when you hear me jacking off, I guess? Never once when you heard me shaking through a panic attack late at night, or throwing up after missions with lots of flashes?”

_To find some peace and quiet right behind a wooden door"_

“At least spare me the heartache of telling me you don’t care before you drag me to your room again and fuck me against the door, considering I, myself, am not worthy of the respect you so desperately want. I never signed up for any of this, especially not this… confusing, one-way _bullshit_. Good _night_ , Major.” With the most bitter and empty salute, Chuck pushed past Casey-- _no, his handler_ \-- before he could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

_He said, "Please don't go away", he said, "Please don't go away"_

“Intersect, wait.” There was a weird quality to the agent’s voice, but Chuck couldn’t be damned to decipher it.

_I said, "It's too late", I said, "It's too late"_

“Oh, because calling me _that_ right now is going to increase your odds! You’re a goddamn genius, major!”

_He said, "Please don't go away", he said, "Please don't go away"_

Chuck’s hands got to the doorknob before he felt a large hand engulf his wrist.

“Chuck.”

_I said, "It's too late", I said, "It's too late"_

The grip was easy to break out of. It wasn’t tight. Like Casey wasn’t really trying to restrict him. So why did Chuck feel like his lungs were being squeezed for the air within them?

"Good _fucking_ night, Casey.” With a yank of his wrist, he tugged open the door and slammed it behind him.

 

_And now I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking_

Chuck’s eyes adjusted to the dark stillness of the courtyard, the quiet bubbling of the fountain. He cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry. Chuck scrubbed at his eyes as he walked to his window.

_That I almost gave you everything_

“Well wasn’t giving love the old I-got-kicked-out-of-college try a shit decision,” Bartowski mumbled as he climbed in through the Morgan door. He turned to shut it, and found himself locking it. He never did that. Maybe he hoped he could lock out the world for just a moment while he attempted to collect what little thoughts remained.

_And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing_

He ran his hands through his curls and paced a few times, before dropping onto his bed and setting his empty gaze on the ceiling. Chuck didn’t know how he knew what having your heart painfully extracted and dropped onto the floor to be crushed felt like, but this was most certainly it.

_That I never gave you anything_

He sat up on his bed when he decided he needed to take a shower. To wash off all traces of where John Casey’s touched had burned into his skin. He stared at the camera he knew was in the top corner of his room, and flipped his handler the bird.

_You wrote a hundred letters just for me_

Chuck went up to grab his pajamas once he imagined Casey got the hint he wanted him to fuck off and look somewhere else for a change. He snagged them from his drawers, and his eyes glanced over his bureau countertop. There was nerd memorabilia settled along it, as well as a scatter of sticky notes from Casey. _‘Come to the castle’. ‘Meet me for lunch’. ‘Half an hour. Castle’. ‘Loading dock. Five minutes’_. All scrawled out in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

_And I find them in my closet in the pockets of my jeans_

Chuck had kept them because they felt important. Like the fact he couldn’t text him this, had to write it, like kids passing notes in school, felt meaningful. Now it just felt like a load of garbage. And he had garbage _everywhere_ , in that case. Casey had written him tons, and there was at least one-- if not more-- in every pair of pants he had worn to work and forgotten to take out.

_Now I'm constantly reminded of the time I was nineteen_

It reminded him of the notes Bryce used to leave him in their dorm. That had been mainly because he realized Chuck never remembered things he told him if he just said it once. He need something physical, _tangible_ , Larkin had figured out. Casey had as well, sort of. But only in the _‘I want to fuck you into tomorrow’_ kind of way, feelings be damned.

_Every single one's forgotten in a laundromat machine_

Chuck shoved the pile of dirty clothes on his chair into a basket Ellie had left in his room, and swept in as many notes as his hands could hold right after. The physical and tangible elements of whatever whirlwind they had were disappearing like sand.

_But I don't let him touch me anymore_

As he trudged into the bathroom, Chuck wondered if this was the end. If tomorrow, when he headed into work, he’d be having to explain why Casey was suddenly bitter and avoiding him at every turn to Morgan and Jeffster. Why there were no more icy blue eyes trained on him from between the shelves of appliances, why they weren’t going to lunch together, or why there were no more breaks where Chuck came back flustered and Casey’s green shirt left untucked.

_I said, "I'm not something to butter up and taste when you get bored_

If they asked, he would tell them the truth. It was unrequited love. Casey wanted something to put his dick in, and Chuck was the nearest gullible idiot with hearts in his eyes. He stared at himself in the mirror. Christ, he looked so… tired. His eyes were glassy, and the empty space in his brain was now filled to the brim with fears.

_Cause I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors_

Speaking of fear, the idea of being alone again had him feeling like he was going to be sick. Before he could stop himself, he was on his knees on the cold tile, head bent over the toilet. As much as he wanted to, as much as he tried, nothing came out but saliva and panicked wheezes.

_To find some peace and quiet right behind a wooden door"_

Chuck didn’t remember locking the bathroom door behind him. He hadn’t even remembered closing it until he heard hard knocks on it a few minutes after he gave up and curled up in defeat on the floor.

 

_He said, "Please don't go away", he said, "Please don't go away"_

“Bartowski? Bartowski, if you can hear me, let me in.” This was paired with more banging on the door, but it couldn’t hide his handler’s tone. Casey’s voice sounded almost… panicked? There was no way though, Chuck thought as he licked his dry lips and stared up at the ceiling light. The agent would have to feel afraid for that.

And Casey was never afraid.

_I said, "It's too late", I said, "It's too late"_

"Just… Go _away_ , Casey. Let me and the Intersect die in peace.” Chuck’s voice didn’t sound like his own when he spoke. “Then you can get reassigned and don’t have to pretend you care anymore.”

_He said, "Please don't go away" , he said, "Please don't go away"_

“Bartowski, if you don’t open this door, I _will_ break it down, and _I’m_ not going to be the one to explain that to your sister!” The handle continued to rattle as Casey hoped he could jiggle it into submission to unlock it. Just like everything else, Casey’s first method in problem-solving was to invade and conquer.

_I said, "It's too late", I said, "It's too late"_

“Oh, yeah… Tell Ellie I said I’m sorry. For everything. Tell Captain Awesome that’s what I’ve been calling him for years, and that Morgan can have all my ga--”

“Chuck, _stop that_.” The agent’s tone was that odd one from back in his apartment. Now Bartowski had the time to appraise it, and he realized it was _pained_.

_And now I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking_

With a grunt, Chuck pushed himself up to a sitting position. He was intimately acquainted with the man on the other side of the door, and knew full well that he could wait Chuck out. And that he really wouldn’t wait at all, if he didn’t have to. “Don’t break the door down, I’m coming…” His voice came out as a croak, and he swore he heard Casey sigh behind the door. Was he concerned or pissed? Chuck couldn’t tell.

_That I almost gave you everything_

The nerd dragged himself across the tile and turned back the lock before collapsing back against the sink. The handles to the drawers dug into his back, but that was hardly on his mind.

_And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing_

Casey pushed through immediately after, closing the door behind him and dropping to his knees. His eyes scanned over Chuck’s body the same way he did after a dangerous patch in a mission. _Checking for wounds_. Bartowski squinted at him, as much as the action increased his headache.

“... Why are you looking at me like th--”

“You know what I’m looking for.” The agent’s words were peculiarly quiet as he lifted the asset’s arms, checking at his wrists.

_That I never gave you anything_

It didn’t take Chuck long to realize, and he quickly yanked his arms back from Casey.

“Oh my god! Of _course_ the government had to make sure you knew I’ve tried to… That I…” The words kept dying in his mouth, and he looked away as hot tears started to well up. He had hoped that Casey wouldn’t know, wouldn’t worry about him more. He already had little freedom as it was, housing government intelligence in his brain.

_And I can't stop thinking that I can't stop thinking_

“... Of course they did, kid. I need to know.” Casey’s voice was low and quiet.

“What for?! The last time was when I--… Well, I…” Chuck stared down at his hands between his knees. He thought about doing that a lot, didn’t he? The Intersect hadn’t helped much, either.

 _That I almost gave you everything (I said, "It's too late")_  

"It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. Haven’t had to visit a doctor in forever. I’m clean and all that.” Shaky hands combed through his brown curls.

“... You haven’t gone because you didn’t _want_ to. Ellie’s been trying for months, maybe a year, to get you to go back.” The agent seemed to be struggling to decide whether or not to do something more here for the asset. Never in his life had John Casey been so openly indecisive. Chuck was clearly fucking everything up.

_And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing_

“Nooooonononono, I’m done with therapy. It clearly didn’t help me any when I did go, so what’s the point? What would I even tell a therapist? _‘Oh, yeah, my life got entirely ruined when my brain became the housing vessel for all of the US government’s most important secrets’?!_ My problems stopped being ones that didn’t come with a ‘highly classified’ label a long time ago, Casey!”

_That I never gave you anything_

"You just admitted it.” How patient and quiet the agent was being kind of scared Chuck more than his growling anger did.

"Admitted _what_ , exactly?”

“Therapy never helped. You never got over your problems.” Chuck opened his mouth a few times, trying to find some way to retort or prove him wrong, but there wasn’t any. He turned his back to his handler.

“Go home, Casey.”

_He said, "Please don't go away", he said, "Please don't go away"_

How do you tell someone _‘my home is with you’?_

 

There was no gruff response. No sound of Casey getting up and leaving like he asked. Just the silence of breathing. Casey’s quiet inhales paired with Chuck’s pained wheezing. It was calm, almost.

Of course, no calm could stay in Chuck Bartowski’s life, because Casey’s arm’s encircled him.

_I said, "It's too late" I said, "It's too late"_

“Casey-- Casey, let _go_ \--” The asset wriggled weakly as he was pulled back-- ... Into Casey’s chest? Large hands meant only for killing, for bloodshed, felt gentle as they curled around his shaking body. Chuck almost felt like a kid again, no one had been able to cradle him since he had his first growth spurt in 6th grade.

But Casey could.

_He said, "Please don't go away"_

The agent was by absolutely no means an affectionate man, he had made that clear from the start. But, he was trained in tactics to counteract anxiety on behalf of the asset, which included deep pressure therapy. The action was somewhere between a firm hug and compression, wholly with the intent of quelling the kid’s tremors through some bullshit neuroscience and whatnot he forgot. Didn’t matter how it worked if it got the job done, right? Behind all that, though, there was a hesitance. Would Chuck hate him for this? For everything? He didn’t know why the thought shook him up so much.

“Never do that again.” It was a command from Casey, _sure_ , but it was gentle. It wasn’t enforced by his strength-- all of which was currently being funneled into his restrained hold-- but by feeling. _‘I never want you to do that again'_. Chuck was having a panic attack, he wasn’t _stupid_.

That didn’t mean he knew what to do with that information, though.

_He said, "Please don't go away"_

Bartowski stayed within his handler’s grip, listening to the murmured, calming words. Chuck didn’t know it was _‘anxiety control 101’_ , and Casey was fine if it stayed that way. Things like _‘deep breaths, kid’_ and _‘match my breathing’_ seemed to get through to him. Bartowski’s racing pulse calmed down, and his tremors subsided. He wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Chuck was used to surviving like that. Casey would never say it, but the kid was damn resilient, more than some of the toughest soldiers he’d known.

_I said, "It's too late"_

The asset swallowed heavily, pulling away from Casey. He found when he tried, John seemed to have a hesitance towards letting go. The nerd rationalized it as his handler assuming he still needed the hug. … _Right?_ It took him a minute, but he managed to find his words.

“Thank you… for that. Heh.” Chuck scrubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a warmth crawl upward and to his cheeks. _Really had to remember that whole ‘lovesick puppy’ thing right now, huh?!_

"... It’s what I’m here for. You die, I get my ass kicked by the highest powers that be, kid.” The NSA agent couldn’t hold back the smallest of smirks when he saw Chuck get a kick out of that. His eyes fixated on the way his chest shook with suppressed laughter, flashing that lopsided sunshine grin his way. It was clouded by glassy eyes, dark circles, and a hollow frame, but nothing could tamp down that energy.

The kid didn’t know what he did to him, did he?

_I said, "It's too late"_

“So, do we just, uh…?” Chuck had absolutely no clue what he was implying they were supposed to do next. He was never the _fearless leader_ , that was Casey’s job, so he was kind of hoping that’d kick in and he would, you know, _lead_. His handler caught on quick enough. Standing, he held out an arm to get his asset off the floor.

"First, we get you off this cold-ass tile before I hear you start complaining because your senses are back in working order.” Chuck couldn’t hold back a smile as he was hoisted up. As he was pulled to a standing position, it felt like he wasn’t the only thing that had been righted. He kept his grip on John’s arm, forcing the man to look in his eyes. When he did, his expression bloomed into an ear-to-ear, toothy grin.

"When do I get to say the L-word without you insulting me for it?” His handler simply rolled his eyes and shoved him out the door.

"Get in there and away from _me_ , dumbass.”

Then and there, John Casey decided he would take Chuck in his entirety, and he would be there for him. John Casey decided he was _never_ letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> aaahhh!! i've been fiddling with this for MONTHS because i was so nervous about characterization and portraying the problems right 'cuz i'm so used to seeing every "it takes one kiss to make everything better" type stuff and i wanted some real ass chuck with anxiety because i LOVE projecting. this is the first chuck/casey thing i've written i've felt confident enough to post so i hope it was as much fun to read as it was to write!!!


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